


Soggy Affairs

by dublin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Emo, Grindr, Heartbreak, Hook-Up, M/M, past-Harry/Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 16:12:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dublin/pseuds/dublin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detroit yesterday, Chicago today. Literal lyrics are literal when the stage is the last retreat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soggy Affairs

**Author's Note:**

> referencing the change in the lyrics to "I want" at the concert in Detroit June 1st 2012, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GtqhaAJEhbI

Breakfast is a soggy affair, with the cereal mushy from the milk and with the orange juice from concentrate, nevermind the freefloating tension. They're all in their own worlds, Liam flicking through a mag, Zayn bobbing along to something on his headphones, Niall on his phone and Louis practically with his cock in El's pussy.

Harry leans back, clanging his spoon against the side of the bowl and letting the mush of cereal and milk drop off it, while he half-listens to the schedule for the day, half-ignores Louis' whispers to El, the way his hand shifts on her thigh. Interviews and signing in the morning (their morning, relative), free for a few hours in the afternoon, the gig at night, any plans to go out?, and Harry lifts his hand while the rest of them vote for staying inside and watching crap telly and catching up on crap sleep before the gig. 

"Yeah, I'll... I'll go out." Louis stares at him, Harry pointedly ignores him in turn and grins at Jack for his babysitter. "It's a date."

The 'could you not?' for last night follows and Harry dutifully nods but Louis' flush makes it worth it. Made it worth it last night, made it worth it still now, just to remind him of a good thing and make it hurt as much for Louis as it does for him. He doubts he succeeds.

"No it's good, it's really good," Louis says in one of their first interviews, somewhere from the other side of the table. "It makes you, you know what I mean, it gives you that buzz. It's probably our, well, mine at least, it's my favourite thing about it, going out and seeing everyone there."

They nod along while Louis leads the interview, don't mention the awkward boners on stage and being eighteen and bringing some of the girls up to the room sometimes, treat them right and fuck them good, the four and a half of them that would do pussy anyway. 

The jokes wear a bit thin the next interview, and maybe it's the lack of sleep or Louis texting El in the breaks, smiling at the phone, then freezing when Harry catches him out, that leave Harry in his head, throwing in a, "Yeah it's good fun," when the rest of them turn to look at him. "We're all good friends, it makes it easy." He looks at Louis and Louis raises one sassy, gay eyebrow at him while the other stays firmly down in straight land.

You should never date the bi boys, all of his mates had said. 'He's different' rang in his ears like one hell of a fucked-up sad echo. He should've recorded it on his phone to play it back now. When she wasn't around it was easy to pretend she didn't exist, and that his and Louis' few months of hooking up and spending way too much time in one another's arses hadn't either. When she was there, it just reminded him of being the fuck that wasn't anymore, and while he could hold his tongue for most of it, ... well, the rush of adrenaline during a gig made stupid shit seem like the sane thing to do.

"Got anything in mind?" Jack asks, happy to be out to find some smoking areas, probably. 

Louis hangs in the lobby to take care of something with his key, El pressed to his side, and he's nosing at just behind her ear while the fans take pictures on their phones through the windows. He catches Harry's glance across the floor, holds it, and Harry is the one who shrugs it off as he walks out and around to the side exit for a bit of a getaway that isn't all cameras and sharp nails. He slips on his shades just to have a private cry if he wants to in the car.

"Bit of shopping?" Jack slips in and they crawl past the fans, flashes going off even through the windows.

"I don't know," Harry says. Girls' screams and girls' faces blend into one, a lot of tits on display, nowhere near legal tits, and despite his stint with pussy, he's figured out that it wasn't what he wanted somewhere around the time he was on his knees with Lou's cock in his mouth. "Maybe," he adds far too long later and opens his phone to scroll through his apps.

Downtown is quiet, as much as a few thousand tourists can make it, but beanie and shirt on, shades and a coffee in hand and he skirts along the edges of the illusion of some privacy.

 _FIFA when you get back?_ Louis has texted. Probably Liam asking and meaningfully nudging Louis to make a fucking move.

 _Possib_ , Harry texts back because it's not Louis' fault that he watches porn and always, always casts Louis and himself in it. 

A few hours of a getaway clear his mind usually, make him think straight again without Louis' mere presence trying to scrape out his heart. 

"You good?" Jack asks, cigarette between his fingers, standing just within the lines of the smoking area.

"Good." Harry's got Grindr open and messages the guy closest, few years older, fit enough, friendly enough. He doesn't ask too much, doesn't want too much, and --

a few hours of a getaway and a cock in his mouth make him think straight again usually, the irony casts a rainbow over Chicago. He finds the shop in gmaps and nips inside, browsing shirts he doesn't want to buy long enough to spot the bloke and nod at him. Jack's looking bored out of his mind and itching for another cigarette.

"I'll just... go and try these on," Harry says and nods to the fitting rooms, holding up clothes in bright and stripes and Jack raises an eyebrow but just nods at him, not insisting on following him all the way there to protect him from loitering girls. 

"Kevin, yeah?" 

Harry nods at the bloke who doesn't ask for ID, and they slip into one of the stalls together, the bloke with his hands empty and Harry practically holding Louis' clothes. 

"You from here?"

"Tourist." Harry sets the shirt and chinos aside.

The bloke shrugs and unbuttons his jeans, clearly more interested in getting his cock sucked than small talk. He rolls the condom on as Harry drops to his knees and mouths at the latex before he draws the cock into his mouth. The bloke smells all right, not too sweaty, the taste is atrocious as usual, and when he slips the shades off Harry's face, the lights are too bright as they scrabble to erase the edge of surreality Harry's sunk into it.

"Nice one, yeah, that's nice," the bloke says as Harry tries to take him deeper, contrasting and comparing girth and length. He stops short of closing his eyes, no need for the fantasy that would just leave him with a deeper ache. He focuses on the weight on his tongue instead and all the ways that this bloke is a bit of cock he won't see again, and, clearly, much like the rest he goes for the pussy and the tits that stay behind while they move on.

The bloke keeps his hands to himself, doesn't even try to touch Harry's hair as Harry sucks him best he can (best he's been taught), pressing his tongue up and cradling the cock against the roof of his mouth. Every thrust calms the symphony in the back of his mind a little more until there's a single tiny violin playing out his emo as the guy comes, shooting into the condom, not down Harry's throat, and Harry pulls off.

"I can do you," the bloke offers as he ties off his spunk. 

"I'm good." Harry rubs a hand over his mouth, catches the sight of plump lips in the mirror and grimaces, rubs his hand over his mouth again but the traces of the blowjob linger. "Thank you. That was good."

"All right, man." The guy shakes his hand. "Have a good time here, man. Message me when you want to hook up again."

The bloke leaves with a clack of the door and Harry gives it another minute before he slips out after him, leaving the clothes he'd have had no hope of getting into at the desk, then slips out his shades again as he finds Jack by the railing, watching women's breasts.

"They're out of your league," Harry says as he steps up to him and nods for the outside.

"Just nice to see something older than thirteen for a change."

Another coffee and idle contemplation of just one more cock, maybe, especially before Mexico, but word must have got around and he's too busy trying not to get his hair pulled out by the roots and his clothes off his body to drag that thought further than 'wouldn't it be nice'.

They escape back to the car, then back to the hotel, stuck in traffic for long enough that nerves catch him rubbing at his mouth like the boy who inhaled a cookie jar full of cookie cocks while no one was looking. 

"Thanks. I enjoyed it," Harry says as they make it into the hotel and down endless corridors. 

"No problem. Have a good one." Jack disappears around the corner to do whatever the blokes did when they weren't protecting them from the big bad evil of girls made up like barbies. 

Harry's in the corridor by himself, plush carpet, two hours to the soundcheck, ambient lighting. 

"Was it good?" Louis' leaning next to his hotel room door. No sign of El. 

"Yeah." Harry has his keycard in hand, tries to make it sound fierce and pissed-off and _I hate your guts sometimes_ but it comes out as, "No," and quieter, and though his lips smart and he knows Louis knows, it's done nothing to the stuff in his heart. The, well, Louis-shaped stuff in his heart.

His mates warned him about bi boys, and that's great and well, but no one warned him about falling in love, and what if the other person moves on and you're just stuck in the same routine, the 'mutual' broken down into 'by myself, all the time'.

Louis is about to say, "I'm sorry" and give him something besides the hug and the long looks and the familiarity that catches them out all the time. 

"I'm good," Harry says first instead. "I'm good. I'll see you later." He even manages a smile as he slots his card through.

It'll be later, on stage, that he'll take his heart out of his pocket and show it a little where the flash of the cameras will catch it in its full glory and broadcast it to all of the world, when the one person it's meant for is looking the other way. 

The 'could you not?' from last night? Well, no, he could not not.


End file.
